Honestly achieved results surpass all others.
quote by Michael Diamond
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Honestly
This poem is dedicated to Kimberly Ashley Evans.♥
Honestly I know I love you
Honestly I hope you know thats true
Honestly you are the one
Honestly I hope we are never done
Honestly your my life
Honestly I hope you will be my wife
Honestly I know Im yours
Honestly I hope you dont open any other doors
Honestly your mine
Honestly I hope that is fine
Honestly you are so pretty
Honestly I hope you know that Kimi
Honestly do you know what to do?
Honestly I hope you have a clue
Honestly will you marry me?
Honestly I hope you know I wont deceive
Honestly without you I would die
Honestly that is not a lie
Honestly do you know what I see?
Honestly I see someone that deserves glee
Honestly you are amazing
Honestly you are my craving
Honestly God loves you
Honestly I cant blame him because I do too
Honestly your always right
Honestly I hope your always in my sight
Honestly lets spend out lives together
Honestly Forever
poem by Bryan Hammond
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Honestly (Love Ballad) :
If you say you really love me.
Take some time to show you care.
And if you care alot about me.
I will care alot for you.
Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!
Don't think of ways to cheat or hurt me.
Don't think of ways to deceive my heart.
And don't forget, I truly love you.
Don't forget, I'm truly yours.
Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how I feel.
Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!
Try to give me peace and pleasure.
Try to give me what I need.
What I need is all your loving.
All your love is what I need.
Because I'm the one who really loves you.
I'm the one who really cares.
Honestly!
Honestly!
Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!
Love Ballad By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1986,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Honestly
I believe
I believe
I believe
I believe the love you talk about with me
Is it true, do I care
Honestly, you can try to wipe the memories aside
But its you that you erase
cause theres no place that I could be without you
Its too far to discard the life I once knew
Honestly, all the weather storms are bringing
Are just a picture of my dreams
cause when I think of you as mine
And allow myself with time
To lead into the life we want
I feel loved, honestly
I feel loved, this honestly
I believe you mean the best that life can bring
I believe in it all
Honestly, you can try
Your heart is just as long as mine
Is it ours to let go
cause theres not place that I could be without you
Its too dark to discard the life I once knew
Honestly, a single wrong is not enough
To cover up the pain in us
cause when I think of you as mine
And allow myself with time
To lead into the life we want
I feel loved, honestly
Ill make a joke so you must laugh
Ill break your heart so you must ask
Is this the way to get us back
I dont know, honestly
I dont know, this honestly
Theres no place that I could be without you
Honestly
Theres no place that I could be without you
Theres no place that I could gleam without you
Theres no place that I could dream without you
Theres no place that I could be without you
Honestly
song performed by Zwan
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Loch Katrine
Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand,
Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand!
Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen,
Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
And as I gaze upon it, let me pause and think,
How many people in Glasgow of its water drink,
That's conveyed to them in pipes from its placid lake,
And are glad to get its water their thirst to slake.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains on either side of it are beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the steamers sailing on it with their clouds of steam:
And their shadows on its crystal waters as they pass along,
Is enough to make the tourist burst into song.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
'Tis beautiful to see its tiny wimpling rills,
And the placid Loch in the hollow of a circle of hills,
Glittering like silver in the sun's bright array,
Also many a promontory, little creek, and bay.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
Then to the east there's the finely wooded Ellen's Isle,
There the tourist can the tedious hours beguile,
As he gazes on its white gravelled beautiful bay,
It will help to drive dull care away.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains Ben-An and Ben-Venue are really very grand
Likewise the famous and clear silver strand;
Where the bold Rob Roy spent many a happy day,
With his faithful wife, near by its silvery bay.
[...] Read more
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Information Overload
Many suffer from,
Information overload.
And nothing can be done,
By information overload.
Too many getting numb,
With information overload.
And not overcoming,
That information overload...
Can be,
Impossible to see achieved.
Simple conversation is...
Impossible to have it achieved.
Eye contact is...
Impossible to have it achieved.
An understanding is...
Impossible to have it achieved.
People sincere is...
Impossible to have it achieved!
Many suffer from,
Information overload.
And nothing can be done,
By information overload.
With many running away...
From wanting purpose.
And many running away...
From honesty!
And many running away...
From keeping focus.
And many running away...
From peace believed,
To wish it could be possible.
With many running away...
From wanting purpose.
And many running away...
From honesty!
And many running away...
From keeping focus.
And many,
Are running away...
From peace believed.
To wish it could be possible.
Eye contact is...
Impossible to have it achieved.
An understanding is...
Impossible to have it achieved.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Trip Too Quick To Insult and Assault
You trip too quick to get your results.
You trip too quick to insult and assault,
Those you don't know...
Who haven't shown,
Reason why you choose to deceive.
You trip too quick to sit and to sulk.
You trip too quick to blame and to fault,
Others unaware...
What has been done to you.
And you don't care...
Going through the act that you do.
You trip too quick to get your results.
Yes you do.
You trip too quick to insult and assault,
Just to prove...
To,
Those you don't know...
Who haven't shown,
Reason why you choose to deceive.
Then you can't believe why they come back,
To mistreat you!
You trip too quick to get your results.
Yes you do.
You trip too quick to insult and assault,
Just to prove...
To,
Those you don't know...
Who haven't shown,
Reason why you choose to deceive.
You trip too quick to get your results.
And...
You trip too quick to insult and assault.
And...
You trip too quick to get your results.
And...
You trip too quick to insult and assault.
You trip too quick to get your results.
You trip too quick to insult and assault.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Honestly
Don't act like I don't know what I'm talking about
Don't forget that I'm the one who knows you inside out
You can't even answer when I ask you what's wrong
Just how much longer can the silence go on?
Honestly
Honestly
There's trouble in your heart that you can't hide from me
Talk to me
Cause I can see
Your love ain't what it used to be
If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth
Honestly
Just say we stand a chance
And you're willing to try
Or say there's nothing left for you and tell me goodbye
We both know love has got to be an open door
And if it's time for you to fly
I can't hold you any more
Honestly
Honestly
There's trouble in your heart that you can't hide from me
Talk to me
Cause I can see
Your love ain't what it used to be
If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth
Honestly
If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth
song performed by LeAnn Rimes from Blue
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I Love You, I Honestly Love You
I Love You, Honestly I Love You
Maybe I hang around here
A little more than I should
We both know I got somewhere else to go
But I got something to tell you
That I never thought I would
But I believe you really ought to know
I love you
I honestly love you
You don't have to answer
I see it in your eyes
Maybe it was better left unsaid
This is pure and simple
And you should realize
That it's coming from my heart and not my head
I love you
I honestly love you
I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable
I'm not trying to make you anything at all
But this feeling doesn't come along everyday
And you shouldn't blow the chance
When you've got the chance to say
I love you
I honestly love you
If we both were born
In anoother place and time
This moment might be ending in a kiss
But there you are with yours
And here I am with mine
So I guess we'll just be leaving it at this
I love you
I honestly love you
I honestly love you
song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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I Lost Him
i lost him
i guess honestly-i never really had him
i lost his heart
the soft touch
i guess i lost him
i guess honestly-i never really had him.
i lost him
the sinful smile
the trusting strength
i guess i lost him
i guess honestly-i never really had him.
i lost him
i lost the truth
the honest truth
i lost him
i guess honestly-i never really had him
i lost him
what is worse-is-
i loved him
i still love him
and now because i never told him i loved him,
i lost him.
i guess honestly-i never really had him.
poem by Sindal Benson
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I Honestly Love You
(p. allen/j. barry)
Maybe I hang around here
Little more than I should
Both know I got somewhere else to go
But I got something to tell you
That I never thought I would
But I believe you really ought to know
I love you
I honestly love you
You dont have to answer
I see it in your eyes
Maybe it was better left unsaid
This is pure and simple
And you must realize
That its coming from my heart and not my head
I love you
I honestly love you
Im not tryin to make you feel uncomfortable
Im not tryin to make you anything at all
But this feeling doesnt come along everyday
And you shouldnt blow the chance
When youve got the chance to say
I love you (I love you)
I honestly love you
If we both were born in another place and time
This moment might be ending with a kiss
There you are with yours
And here I am with mine
So I guess well just be leaving it at this
I love you
I honestly love you
I honestly, love you
I love you
song performed by Lea Salonga
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I Honestly Love You
(peter allen/jeff barry)
Maybe I hang around here
A little more than I should
We both know I got somewhere else to go
But I got something to tell you
That I never thought I would
But I believe you really ought to know
I love you
I honestly love you
You dont have to answer
I see it in your eyes
Maybe it was better left unsaid
This is pure and simple
And you should realize
That its coming from my heart and not my head
I love you
I honestly love you
Im not trying to make you feel uncomfortable
Im not trying to make you anything at all
But this feeling doesnt come along everyday
And you shouldnt blow the chance
When youve got the chance to say
I love you
I honestly love you
If we both were born
In anoother place and time
This moment might be ending in a kiss
But there you are with yours
And here I am with mine
So I guess well just be leaving it at this
I love you
I honestly love you
I honestly love you
song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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Paradise Lost: Book 02
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence; and, from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught,
His proud imaginations thus displayed:--
"Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!--
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen,
I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent
Celestial Virtues rising will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate!--
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven,
Did first create your leader--next, free choice
With what besides in council or in fight
Hath been achieved of merit--yet this loss,
Thus far at least recovered, hath much more
Established in a safe, unenvied throne,
Yielded with full consent. The happier state
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place exposes
Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? Where there is, then, no good
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell
Precedence; none whose portion is so small
Of present pain that with ambitious mind
Will covet more! With this advantage, then,
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,
More than can be in Heaven, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assured us; and by what best way,
Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate. Who can advise may speak."
He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king,
Stood up--the strongest and the fiercest Spirit
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair.
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deemed
Equal in strength, and rather than be less
Cared not to be at all; with that care lost
Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse,
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake:--
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare
'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.
Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.
When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.
Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.
[...] Read more
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Tirocinium; or, a Review of Schools
It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the master of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, the associate of a mind
Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of Almighty skill,
Framed for the service of a freeborn will,
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control,
But borrows all its grandeur from the soul.
Hers is the state, the splendour, and the throne,
An intellectual kingdom, all her own.
For her the memory fills her ample page
With truths pour’d down from every distant age;
For her amasses an unbounded store,
The wisdom of great nations, now no more;
Though laden, not encumber’d with her spoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;
When copiously supplied, then most enlarged;
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharged.
For her the Fancy, roving unconfined,
The present muse of every pensive mind,
Works magic wonders, adds a brighter hue
To Nature’s scenes than Nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise and waters roar,
Again she lays them slumbering on the shore;
With flower and fruit the wilderness supplies,
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise.
For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife
That Grace and Nature have to wage through life,
Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill,
Appointed sage preceptor to the Will,
Condemns, approves, and, with a faithful voice,
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice.
Why did the fiat of a God give birth
To yon fair Sun and his attendant Earth?
And, when descending he resigns the skies,
Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise,
Whom Ocean feels through all his countless waves,
And owns her power on every shore he laves?
Why do the seasons still enrich the year,
Fruitful and young as in their first career?
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock’d in the cradle of the western breeze:
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves,
Till Autumn’s fiercer heats and plenteous dews
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.—
‘Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste,
Power misemploy’d, munificence misplaced,
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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You don't get results by focusing on results. You get results by focusing on the actions that produce results.
quote by Mike Hawkins
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Aint What You Do
(s. oliver/j. young)
When I was a kid, about half past three
My ma said daughter, come here to me
Says, things may come and things may go
But this is one thing you ought to know
(chorus1)
Aint what you do, its the way that you do it (x3)
Thats what gets results
Aint what you do, its time that you do it (x3)
Thats what gets results
You can try hard, dont mean a thing
Take it easy, easy, in the jiven swing
Aint what you do, its the place that you do it
Aint what you do, its the time that you do it
Aint what you do, its the way that you do it
Thats what gets results
Youve learned your abcs, youve learned your dfgs
But this is something you dont learn in school
So get your hip boots on, and then you carry on
But remember not to try too hard or it dont mean a thing
(chorus)
Aint what you do, its the time you do it (2x)
Aint what you sing its the way that you sing it
Thats what gets results (2x)
song performed by Lisa Stansfield
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The Town Dump
“The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious.”
A mile out in the marshes, under a sky
Which seems to be always going away
In a hurry, on that Venetian land threaded
With hidden canals, you will find the city
Which seconds ours (so cemeteries, too,
Reflect a town from hillsides out of town),
Where Being most Becomingly ends up
Becoming some more. From cardboard tenements,
Windowed with cellophane, or simply tenting
In paper bags, the angry mackerel eyes
Glare at you out of stove-in, sunken heads
Far from the sea; the lobster, also, lifts
An empty claw in his most minatory
Of gestures; oyster, crab, and mussel shells
Lie here in heaps, savage as money hurled
Away at the gate of hell. If you want results,
These are results.
Objects of value or virtue,
However, are also to be picked up here,
Though rarely, lying with bones and rotten meat,
Eggshells and mouldy bread, banana peels
No one will skid on, apple cores that caused
Neither the fall of man nor a theory
Of gravitation. People do throw out
The family pearls by accident, sometimes,
Not often; I’ve known dealers in antiques
To prowl this place by night, with flashlights, on
The off-chance of somebody’s having left
Derelict chairs which will turn out to be
by Hepplewhite, a perfect set of six
Going to show, I guess, that in any sty
Someone’s heaven may open and shower down
Riches responsive to the right dream; though
It is a small chance, certainly, that sends
The ghostly dealer, heavy with fly-netting
Over his head, across these hills in darkness,
Stumbling in cut-glass goblets, lacquered cups,
And other products of his dreamy midden
Penciled with light and guarded by the flies.
For there are flies, of course. A dynamo
Composed, by thousands, of our ancient black
Retainers, hums here day and night, steady
As someone telling beads, the hum becoming
A high whine at any disturbance; then,
Settled again, they shine under the sun
Like oil-drops, or are invisible as night,
[...] Read more
poem by Howard Nemerov
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Yips
When focusing too hard on putts
golfers suffer from the yips,
and those who focus hard on butts
and breasts and what’s below the hips
may not obtain a hole in one
because most eagles fly away,
and though a birdie can be fun
you’ll never catch one if you play
too focused. Nonchalance will launch
in sex, as golf, a thousand ships,
and when you’re ready for some raunch,
soft-focus rescues you from yips.
Inspired by an article by Katie Thomas in the NYT on August 1 explaining the phenomenon of yip[s which plagues archersm, golfers and all people who aim to carefully at targets (“The Secret Curse of Expert Archers”) :
There is an affliction so feared by elite archers that many in the sport refuse to even say its name. Archery coaches who specialize in treating the problem are sworn not to reveal the identities of archers in its grip, even though they estimate that 90 percent of high-level competitors will fall victim at least once in their careers. Target panic, as the condition is known, causes crack shots to suddenly lose control of their bows and their composure. Mysteriously, sufferers start releasing the bow the instant they see the target, sabotaging any chance of a gold-medal shot. Others freeze up and cannot release at all. Target panic is akin to the yips in baseball and golf, when accomplished athletes can no longer make a simple throw to first base or stroke an easy putt. The results can be mortifying, and archery is filled with tales of those who have caught the curse, never to shoot again. The problem has spawned a cottage industry of coaches, books and specialized accessories that claim to cure target panic….Lanny Bassham, a former Olympic rifle shooter and mental coach whose clients include the Olympic archer Brady Ellison, said the archery community had a peculiar obsession with target panic, which he noted had a horrifying ring. “The words target panic have induced an unnecessary amount of severity and concern about this condition among archers, ” he said. “I think if they had a better word for it, they’d have a lot less problem trying to cure it.” Many archers and their coaches refuse to say target panic. Those words are forbidden around the Nichols household, which is home to the Olympic archer Jennifer Nichols and her younger sister, Amanda, also a world-class competitor. “We try to stay away from the labels that are put on things by people in the archery industry because once you feel you’ve got that label, it’s hard to stay away from it, ” said their father, Brent Nichols. “We don’t want to hear those things.” Theories vary on how to cure target panic. Some switch their shooting hand, or change their grip slightly — techniques that have also proved successful in golf. Others use visualization techniques and positive reinforcement. Wunderle advises his clients to imagine seeing and feeling what a good shot is, without focusing on aiming the arrow. “Do not focus on results, ” he said. “When you focus on results, it builds anxiety. And anxiety is the kiss of death.” One of the most popular cures is to entirely remove the target. Sufferers instead practice shooting at a blank target, sometimes for weeks at a time, to retrain the mind. “The empty bale restores your confidence in your subconscious, ” said Bernie Pellerite, author of the book “Idiot Proof Archery” and a self-described expert on target panic. “Nobody flinches or punches or chokes on an empty bale.” Hunt spent weeks shooting at blank targets, but he also purchased a special release for his bow, which helped retrain him when to shoot. “It’s trying to engrave in your head when you should shoot, ” he said. “You just pull it back, let the safety off, and pull it until it decides to go. Then you get used to every shot being perfect.” Hunt placed second in his age group at the Junior Olympic Archery Development national championships in Oklahoma City earlier this month. His target panic, he said, had been cured. For now. There is an affliction so feared by elite archers that many in the sport refuse to even say its name. Archery coaches who specialize in treating the problem are sworn not to reveal the identities of archers in its grip, even though they estimate that 90 percent of high-level competitors will fall victim at least once in their careers. Target panic, as the condition is known, causes crack shots to suddenly lose control of their bows and their composure. Mysteriously, sufferers start releasing the bow the instant they see the target, sabotaging any chance of a gold-medal shot. Others freeze up and cannot release at all. Target panic is akin to the yips in baseball and golf, when accomplished athletes can no longer make a simple throw to first base or stroke an easy putt. The results can be mortifying, and archery is filled with tales of those who have caught the curse, never to shoot again. The problem has spawned a cottage industry of coaches, books and specialized accessories that claim to cure target panic.
8/20/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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A Tender Lie
As you walk away
As we say goodbye
What I wouldn't give
For a tender lie
Say you'll never stop loving me
Just as if it were true
How much more damage, now honestly
Could one tender lie do
When we fall so far
Are we wrong to try
To keep out the truth
With a tender lie
Say you're gonna come back to me
And I'll believe that it's true
How much more damage, now honestly
Could one tender lie do
Say you're gonna come back to me
And I'll believe that it's true
How much more damage, now honestly
Could one tender lie do
How much more damage, now honestly
Could one tender lie do
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Change Your Deodorant, Oh God!
Change my heart O God
Make it ever true
Change my heart O God
May I be like you
Change my heart O God
Make it ever true
Change my heart O God
May I be like you
You are the potter and I am the clay
Mold me and make me
This is what I pray
Change my heart O God
Make it ever true
Change my heart O God
May I be like you
You are the potter and I am the clay
Mold me and make me
This is what I pray
Change my heart O God
Make it ever true
Change my heart O God
May I be like you
Change my heart O God
Make it ever true
Change my heart O God
May I be like you
1982 Eddie Espinosa Mercy Publishing
My rewrite of the song above, Change My Heart O God, by Eddie Espinosa
Change your deodorant, oh God!
'Cause you stink to high heaven
Oh baby, you know that it's true
You just gotta
Gotta change your deodorant, oh God!
'Cause I really really can't stand anymore
The rotting stench of you
Change your deodorant, oh God!
'Cause you stink to high heaven
Oh baby, you know that it's true
You just gotta
Gotta change your deodorant, oh God!
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poem by Ramona Thompson
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